


Surviving Hell

by hirusen



Category: Cryaotic - Fandom, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Breaking and Entering, Chance Meetings, Character Death, Daddy Kink, Dry heaving, Falling In Love, Felix Died, First Aid, First Kiss, First Time, Forehead Kisses, Getting to Know Each Other, Hand Kisses, Head Kisses, Humans Are Monsters, Injury Recovery, Jack Never Had A Girlfriend, Killing Other Humans, Kissing, Language, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Makeshift Camps, Male Bonding, Mark Likes To Kiss Jack, Mention of Pewdiepie/Felix, Neck Kissing, Nightmares, Scarce Resources, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Kisses, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Spooning, Stitches, Survival, Survivor Guilt, Trust Issues, Weapons, cheek kisses, first kill, hand holding, scavenging, shoulder kisses, urban wilderness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirusen/pseuds/hirusen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack doesn't know if he should be thankful or completely terrified when he happens upon the duo. What he does know is that he wouldn't have survived his injury without their help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving Hell

**Author's Note:**

> So I got inspired to write this from this --> http://25thhanabusa.deviantart.com/art/A-Moment-with-the-New-Blood-589977483 and this --> http://kiwa007.deviantart.com/art/YT-New-Blood-588952295
> 
> However, since I don't watch too much of Felix's videos, and therefor, don't have much of his personality down I had to 'kill' him beforehand. (And someone else is going to get the boot later on too, just as a warning.)

"Fuck it!"

He groaned as he held his head in his hands, the throbbing pain from the lack of water making it hurt even worse. It's been a little over three days since he last had anything to drink and a full week since he last ate. He can't really remember how all of this happened; all he can recall is that it was horrible and that the dying screams of his close friends and family still haunted him in his sleep. He twitched as his ears picked up the soft ruffling of something behind him and carefully glanced over his shoulder. He sighed as he saw a stray cat digging around in some trash. "Fuck...I need something ta drink..." His limbs shook hard as he stood, the lack of proper nutrition and water intake taking a huge toll on his slender frame.

Sean made his way out of the little shed he took shelter in last night, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby, and set out to hopefully find something to eat or drink. He had been kicking himself for all of yesterday when his bag had ripped open thanks to a rather large hole in the bottom, and nearly all of his supplies had been lost to the rapids he had jumped over. He only had enough left to make a few small fires, but what good was it to keep warm if he couldn't have a meal to go with it? At this point, despite the dangers, he'd do anything to get something in his belly.

He learned after he first regained consciousness in this near barren urban wasteland that the real threat wasn't the wild animals or hazards that had sprung up from the disaster that caused the Apocalypse; the real threat was other humans. In times like this, it was hard to trust anyone, let alone get near a person without them trying to kill you and take whatever scraps you've got. Sean pressed as much of his body against an abandoned car as he spotted movement from the corner of his eye, praying that he hadn't been spotted. His heart pounded against his ribs as he waited, straining his hearing to make sure that who or whatever it had been was gone. After a quick peak over the hood, he let out a breath.

It was after that moment of terror that he spotted a house. It was a simple, one-store house, but it was still in pretty good shape.  _Might be something in there._ He knew it was a huge risk, but he didn't have much of a choice. He dashed across the street and tried to mold his body against the side of the house. He leaned up and peaked into the kitchen window; no one was inside. He swallowed. It was very risky to try and break into the house, but without rations or water, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Pulling out the two-piece lock pick set that thankfully survived, Sean quickly unlocked the kitchen door and carefully pushed it open. He waited--two...three...four...--and when nothing happened he dashed inside, quickly but quietly shutting the door behind him.

He did a once over of the kitchen and made his way to the fridge; as much as he wanted water, using the sink would cause too much noise and if anyone was inside, he didn't want to alert them to his presents. Very gently opening the door, Sean had to squint his eyes as the light inside the fridge turned on; at least this place still had power. He snagged a small package from inside and a half bottle of water before shutting the door. The package, he found, was a pre-made sandwich, though judging by the collection of mold on the bread, it had spoiled.  _Damn it._ He mentally cursed as he placed it on the countertop; at least he had water. He had just removed the cap and taken a swallow when he heard something trying to greet his skull and jumped forward. A solid  _thunk_ resounded in the silent kitchen and Sean spun on his heel; a man, wild eyed, wielded a butcher knife. Reflex kicked in and he splashed what little water was left into the man's face, chucking the plastic bottle hard in his face before ducking out of the door he broke into and ran as fast as he could down the street.

The man came barreling out of the door and 26-year old heard the all too familiar sound of a gun cocking. There was a loud bang and he heard as the bullet flew centimeters past his ear, making him jerk away, but the sudden movement caused him to loose his footing and he slipped, his hands slamming hard onto the cement. He cursed loudly as the scrambled to his feet, but the man was already there behind him and he still had the knife. White hot pain danced up and down his arm as his right arm was sliced open, his left hand instantly holding the wound.

He had to get away.

Sean lashed out and kicked the man hard in the ankle, making him buckle, dropping both the knife and his gun. Picking up the gun, Sean smashed the butt of it into the man's face, knocking him out. For some reason, McLoughlin dropped the weapon in his hands and ran. He didn't know where he was going and honestly, he didn't care. If it meant escaping that man, he'd run right into a spike pit. He found a townhouse and ducked inside. He was panting hard at this point, doing what he could to slow his breathing so he didn't draw attention to his position. He hissed softly as his finger was touching the new wound for too long, causing it to sting. He pulled his bloody hand away and examined it.  _Luck o' the Irish._ It wasn't that bad; it bled a lot, sure, but it wasn't that large or deep. He let out a breath of relief, his head falling back to greet the wall behind it. His guard was down for only a second, but that had been long enough.

Suddenly he felt something pointed and sharp at his throat, a baritone voice demanding, "Who are you?" Sean's blue eyes opened and he had them low, taking in the weapon poking his neck. It was a sword, not a fake one or one you'd see cosplayers have, a real metal sword. It was a longsword, the kind you image knights having, about 3 feet in length. His eyes dragged up the length of the blade to see the tan hand holding it, following the muscled arm it was attached to, to gaze upon a man with the top of his hair dyed a rich blue and warm brown eyes. Sean swallowed nervously, feeling the tip of the blade form to his skin. "J-Jack. My name is Jack." The man before him was studying him, like he was trying to judge whether or not he should kill him. As he waited for his pending death, Sean spotted that the man wasn't alone; behind him was another man, wearing a green hoodie and a mask. It was a perfect, white circle that covered all of his face, adorned with a straight, horizontal line for a mouth and two, half-dollar sized eye-holes, though he couldn't see the man's eyes, there was some kind of white fabric that had to be see-through like a two-way mirror.

"...How'd you get that?" The man lowered his sword, sheathing it, before he knelt in front of Jack, slowly reaching out to take a hold of his injured arm. "Broke into a house ta get some food and water; house wasn't empty." Sean explained as he let the other man look at his arm. "Cry, we've still got bandages, right?" The one that seemed to be called Cry nodded his head, removing the bag that had been slung over his shoulder off and dug around. "Do you think you can take your arm out of your shirt?" "Y-Yeah."  _What the hell is going on?_ Sean had encountered a lot of people before, but none of them had ever done something like this. Still, he did as he was told and winched when the other man's slightly rough hands touched the wound. "Sorry." "Here." Cry handed over a roll of bandages. "Thanks." The man smiled softly as he unrolled a small amount of the bandage, tearing it off from the roll, and then moving his hands under Jack's arm. Sean watched as the man carefully wrapped his wound, keeping pressure on the injury once it had been covered. "That should do it. It's not too tight is it?" Jack moved his arm around a little bit, testing the dressing. "Nope. Thanks."

Sean slid his arm back into his sleeve and waited for the other two men to do something. The one with the sword had his eyes on him for a few moments longer before he stood; he was just about to speak when Cry placed a hand on his shoulder. "Can we talk for a moment?" The one he was addressing gave him a smile. "Sure." He glanced down at Jack while still wearing that grin. "I'll be right back." Jack nodded his head as he sat still, watching the duo leave. Of course, his heart was racing a mile a minute. What could they be talking about? Did it involve him? Were they talking about how to kill him? The fear was slowly inching up his spine as the passing seconds felt like hours. Finally, the man who spoke to him returned. "Would you like to come with us?"

...What?

"Cry and I talked about it and he thought it might be good for you to join us." "Why?" The man grinned at him softly. "Don't trust either of us, huh?" "No! Why the fuck would I? Ever since I woke up here, everyone's been trying ta kill me! Why should I trust you?!" The man's face seemed to sadden with his words, but there was an understanding in his eyes. "...Judging by your clothes, you've been surviving for about two weeks now. There isn't much left around here, is there?" Jack flinched. The other man was right. "It's why we're offering. Safety in numbers, right?" "...Where 're ya goin'?" "Further inland. Or as far as we can tell it's inland. Haven't seen anything to indicate where the ocean might be." Jack nodded his head, honestly thinking about it. "...I didn't catch yer name." "Oh, sorry about that. I'm Mark." Mark offered his hand, which Sean took, and pulled the Irish-blood to his feet. "I'm in. Better than sitting around here, waiting ta die." "That's the spirit!" Mark gleefully spoke as his hand smacked Jack's uninjured arm.

The moment was shattered when the door was kicked in and an angry yell sounded moments before they were thrown to the ground. The man that had been chasing Jack was suddenly on top of Mark, trying to behead him with a fire ax. Mark was struggling to keep the sharp edge of the blade away from his person, unable to draw his sword. Jack just sat there, panicked, when his hand brushed against something. He glanced down to see it was a tire iron; he took it in his grasp and swung. It smashed into the man's skull, sending him off of Mark, but Jack didn't stop. He straddled the man and kept swinging, over and over, as hard as he could. "Jack. Jack! Stop, he'd dead!" Mark's hands took a vice grip on his wrists and snapped Jack out of the trace he fell in. His blue eyes slid up to look at Mark, the man's face slightly horrified, before letting them fall. The sight had Sean shaking. The man indeed was dead, his skull looking like a smashed in watermelon with shards of bone poking out in places. "Mark?! What--oh my god."

Jack heard Cry ask as he rushed back into the room after hearing the door being kicking in and Mark struggling, but he cut himself off as he saw Jack on top of the bloody corpse. "Jack?" Mark softly questioned as he helped the shaking man off the body, seeing as his face went pale. Sean dropped the blood stained iron and rushed out of the house. "Jack!" That was Mark, but he didn't want to stop running. "Jack, stop!" Mark was suddenly behind him, his arms coiling around his waist, pulling him to a standstill. It was then that the nausea kicked in and Jack buckled, forcing Mark to hold him as his stomach tried to empty whatever had been in it, which was nothing. Mark pitied the man he held as he dry-heaved, rubbing little circled into his back as he hushed reassurances. After a few more minutes, Jack managed to stop, a shaking hand combing through his green hair. Cry was waiting for them outside of the house, the door behind him closed and the weapon the dead man had by his side. "You okay?" Jack nodded his head numbly. "Th-That's the first time I killed a person." The fear and horror wasn't hard to miss as it became a veil dressing his face and eyes. "The first few kills are the hardest." Cry said, almost nonchalantly, though Jack saw that the topic made him tense.

"Here." Cry offered him the ax which he took. After he gave it a few test swings, Jack looked back at Cry, wondering what weapons he had. He was baring two: a combat knife that was in a thigh sheath on his right leg and a blood stained baseball bat. "Thanks." Cry shrugged. "Alright. Let's get going; someone might have heard the commotion and I'd rather not have to waste what little medical supplies we have left." Upon Mark's words, Sean glanced at his wrapped arm, though he said nothing. So, off they went, following Mark's lead as he guided them away from the shambles of a neighborhood, heading to what looked like a half burned forest.

* * *

"Jack, can you gather some firewood?" "You sure, Mark? There's still some daylight left." Cry asked, but Mark nodded. "I don't like the idea of being so exposed anymore than you do, but it's not an option. See if there's some water nearby, I'll try and gather something for us to eat." Mark drew his sword and made a large X in the dirt. "Meet up back here in a half hour." He said, re-sheathing his blade. They parted ways and Jack went further into the woods. Though they were half gone, the forest was still dense enough for it to feel like it was pressing in on you. However, thanks to living all of his life in Ireland, he ignored that sensation and focused on collecting firewood.  _That should do for a while._ He had gathered two arms full of dry wood, trekking back to the spot they were most likely gonna be making camp. "Hey." Mark greeted as he came back; Cry unfortunately unsuccessful in finding water, but Mark did manage to catch a rabbit and a handful of edible berries. Jack set up the fire, pulling both tinder and kindling from the pocket of his jacket. "You have matches?" Mark asked as he pulled them from his jeans, taking one out and igniting it. "One o' the few things that survived when my bag ripped open." Mark raised a brow at that. Jack sighed as he gently blew on the smoldering tinder, placing it on the kindling and letting out a soft yes when flames started to dance, adding little sticks to the fire before stacking them to look like a tepee, letting the fire grow by itself. "Had ta jump over some rapids and that was enough fer my bag ta rip open, lost almost everything ta the damn river." Mark had an apology on his face as he skewered the cleaned rabbit onto a large stick, wedging the end of it between two rocks so it could cook.

"If I had to guess," Mark spoke as they ate, "you must be from Ireland." "Aye. I can't really remember what I was doing before I woke up here. Don't even know where 'here' is." "We think it's somewhere in America; neither Cry or myself were leaving the country when we woke up here and some of the places look like cities." "'re you both from America?" "Yep. Lived in LA before this mess; Cry's a butt and won't say where he's from." "It adds to the mystery!" "And the supposed sex appeal?" Mark teased, making Cry most likely pout, but Jack giggle. Cry didn't remove his mask while he ate, in fact his back was turned to them, but Sean saw that he had moved it up, the top of it peaking over his pulled up hood. It was as they ate that Jack fully took in the duo he was hoping wasn't going to try and kill him in his sleep.

Cry was like him, slender with an athletic build--though Jack's always known he personally has a runner's build--and he appeared to be the same height as Sean. He wore a green hoodie with light blue jeans and black sneakers. He also had a chain dangling on the left side his jeans and Jack could tell that it wasn't attached to a wallet of some kind, so it was most likely just an accessory. Since the knife was strapped to his person, Cry had leaned the bat next to the tree he sat beside.

Mark was an entirely different story.

The man was 5' 10" and had to have some really good genes because even Sean could tell that he was naturally that muscular. He had dark grey running shoes, black jeans, and a tight black t-shirt. Both of the black items hugged his body in all of the right places, making Jack a little distracted. Of course, Sean only saw that he had been wearing a black t-shirt because he opened up the red and black flannel he was also wearing. Since he was sitting down, he had removed the sword from his belt, the blade resting by his side.

Jack, on the other hand, felt under-dressed for some reason. He had on a dark blue jacket, under which was a favorite long-sleeved red shirt, dark blue jeans, and a pair of red converse. He was glad that he had wrapped his jacket around his waist that morning; he felt a little ashamed that he had gotten injured and that Mark had patched him up, so he could just hide it with his jacket. After they were done eating, Jack quickly fetching more firewood so the others didn't have to try and scavenge for it in the dark, Mark heaved a breath. "Alright. We'll sleep in shifts. Cry, you're on watch first." The other nodded his head, gesturing to Jack to follow Mark. "Looks good enough." Mark stated as he found a little spot tucked under some cover. "Since you're the newbie, you'll be on watch last." "Thanks. And I'm sorry..." "For?" Mark asked, but Sean didn't elaborate. The American sighed. "Don't worry about it." He laid down and lifted his arm; Jack cocked a brow. "You're sleeping with me, Jackaboy. Night is rather cold, or have you not noticed?" W-We're spooning?" "You'd rather sleep on top of me? Cause that works too." "No! No, I don't."

Mark smirked at Jack. "You nervous I might do something to you?" "How can you be so trusting?!" Jack demanded with a stomp of his foot. Mark looked at him, stunned. "...I just have a good read on people." "And that's enough fer you ta trust someone? Anyone can wear a mask ta hide who they really 're and then stab you in the back when you least expect it! How the hell do I know that yer not doing that?!" Mark sat up, his brown eyes locked with Jack's nervous blue. "Jack, I'm gonna be honest with you: I have no reason to lie about anything. Who you see is who you get; Cry's the same. Given the state of things, I know that it's hard to just blindly trust someone, and neither of us are asking you to. All I ask is that you believe me when I say we aren't going to hurt you." Sean didn't quite believe him. "If we wanted to kill you, why would I ask for your name? Why would I bother to look at your injury or even patch you up? If we wanted you dead, why didn't we just kill you when your guard was down?"

His words hit him hard. Why had they done those things? Why hadn't they just offed him and took his things? "...Let me tell you something that's kinda personal for me and Cry. About a week back, we had ran into an armed group who demanded our medical supplies. Obviously, we didn't hand them over and they attacked us. However, Felix had jumped in front of Cry and saved his life; the other group was shocked by his actions and we managed to escape." "...Who's Felix?" "Someone who was close to Cry; most likely a long time friend, or more." Jack suddenly had some major sympathy for Cry. "That baseball bat Cry has? It was Felix's. I doubt he'll give it up even after he's dead. It's all he has left of him." Sean sank to the ground in front of Mark. "...Why 're ya tellin' me this?" "So you can understand why we wanted you to join us. So you understood our situation better. So you can trust that we aren't going to try and kill you." Jack glanced up to Mark and saw that he was holding back tears; if Mark was this upset just talking about it, how on earth is Cry even keeping it together? "Come on. Let's get some sleep." Mark opened up his arms again and this time Jack crawled into his embrace.

He was the little spoon, Mark's strong arm coiled around his waist, and he knew he most likely was red faced by how flushed his body was against Mark's. He could feel as Mark smirked into his neck, his hot breath washing over his skin. "Seems I make you nervous." "W-Well, yer a lot bigger than me; you do have the advantage." "I do, don't I?" Mark taunted playfully as he slid his hand lower on Jack's body, making him jump. "Mark!" "Heh, relax. I'm not gonna do anything." "Ya better not. My knee is in prime position ta get yer dangly bits." "Harsh!" Mark spoke with a laugh, the deep rumble of it vibrating through Sean's back. Mark moved his hand back to where it was and relaxed, easily falling asleep. Much to Jack's surprise, he did too.

* * *

"Jack? Hey, wake up, buddy." Jack groaned as his eyes peeled open. Mark was kneeling above him, a soft smile on his lips. If Mark was up there, then who's chest was he sleeping on? Darting his eyes up, he saw Cry's mask, the man fast asleep. From this angle, he could see that he had dark brown hair and pale skin, though it wasn't a sickly kind of pale, rather the kind of pale skin a person has when they don't get much sun. "My turn?" Mark nodded, carefully removing Cry's arm off Jack's lower back so he could get up. "Ngh...no, five more minutes..." Cry mumbled, rolling onto his side, back facing the awake duo. "Heh, that's actually pretty cute." "He doesn't do it often, but I agree with you." Jack stretched and let out a small yawn. "How long had I been asleep?" "Well, when we do shifts, we stay up until we feel tired again and Cry can stay awake for full nights without any problems. I just happened to wake up and told him to get some sleep so he doesn't burn out; so about 9 hours?" "You normally keep watch until sunrise?" Mark nodded. "I know that won't be too far away at this point, but if you wanted to keep watch, you can."

Another yawn escaped Sean. "I'll do it if you need me to." Mark smiled, softly ruffling his hair. "Nah. It's fine. All our supplies are with Cry and despite how he looks now, he's actually a pretty light sleeper." Jack let out a sleepy giggle, tilting forward a little. "Whoa!" Mark supported him so his face didn't instantly meet the ground, another bubbly laugh escaping Jack. "You sound like you're drunk." "I hadn't been gettin' much sleep fer the past few days." Mark hummed. He knew what it was like to have sleep deprivation. "Cry will wake himself up in another 5 or 6 hours; we can sleep until then." Jack nodded his head as he basically crawled into Mark's lap. The man chuckled and laid down, pulling Cry to curl against his side as Jack rested on top of him. "I like yer eyes." Jack sleepily stated as he traced the edge of one with the tip of his finger, going slow to try and memorize the shape of it. "It's similar to those you see on half-Japanese or half-Koreans." "I am actually half-Korean." "Really?" "Yep. I'm half-Korean, half-German." The German-Korean told a sleepy Jack. "Remember that. I'm gonna quiz you when you wake up." Jack groaned, but nodded his head, letting it fall into the nook of Mark's neck.

Jack fell asleep moments later. Mark smiled to himself as Cry cuddled closer, taking Jack's balled up hand with his own. He felt as the other held in a whimper, trying not to wake up or worry their new group member. Mark rubbed circles into Cry's back, tilting his head to place a small kiss to the top of his head; he turned it to place one on Jack's cheek. "Don't you two worry. We're gonna get through this."


End file.
